I'm Not Qualified For This!
by Baka of the Funk
Summary: Three years after the battle, Harry and his friends have plans for wizarding Britain. But forget about them, Skippy, a muggleborn scientist, has been dragged into their plans via a long-lost drunken bet. They actually expect her to teach muggle studies?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! I know I have like, fifty kajillion (2) stories I need to finish, but I couldn't get rid of this idea.**

**This is probably the most ambitious fic I've attempted so far. Got no idea where it's going to go, but I have some ideas. Besides, I have an extra long summer. I'll update this. (Famous last words, though I have a feeling that I'll be forced to carry on, if not by you then by my friend.)**

**Right, I was looking for a good muggle studies fic, where the emphasis is on the actual teaching, because I'm strange like that. As I said to my friend, if I see one more fic where they go to a normal school in AMERICA, I'll shoot myself.**

**So. A warning: There will be OCs. But since the main characters are controlling everything from behind the curtains, they don't need to be in it much anyway. If you're wondering where the name 'Skippy' came from, it was my friend's suggestion. She's a little crazy.**

**Another warning: I can't write depressed people (aka, George and maybe Harry a little bit) for shit. And there's swearing. And the format's a little weird. It's all a little weird. Bear with me, here: I'm not a miracle worker. No, wait, I am. Sorry, my bad. (Inside joke with someone long gone T-T)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't care.**

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**The (Quite Literally) Magical Adventures of Skippy, AKA, I'm Not Qualified for This!**

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* * *

**

_Hey, Skippy,_

_Remember me? Your favourite red-haired prankster?_

_It's been a while. Sorry for not contacting you, but if you're in Switzerland of all places, you're kind of asking for it._

_Do you also remember that favour you owe me? I'm calling it in._

_Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at 6 on the 23rd._

_George W._

_

* * *

_

Of course I remember you, my memory isn't that bad.

Though, three years and all you have to say is "Remember that bet you lost? Drop everything and cater to my whims."? You should be ashamed. Whatever happened to respecting your elders?

Besides, I was drunk at the time. As far as I'm concerned, the bet never happened. And at least give me some details.

So, what have you been up to? Apart from expanding your business, that is - whenever the boss' kid is in the building, we all get 'treated' to a re-run of your seventh year. Is it true that you slipped laxatives into her tea? Christophe was not amused either way.

- Skippy

* * *

_You're only four years older than me, unless you'd like me to treat you like an old lady. That can be easily arranged, if you don't mind waiting for the new range of Wheezes to arrive on the continent._

_I don't remember using laxatives, but that boy (I'm assuming it's a boy by the way) is a genius, if I do say so myself. _

_"Apart from expanding your business" you say? If you wanted to know about my private life you could have just asked. Anyway, I've been busy with the shop so there's not much gossip for you there. _

_It's too complicated to explain through letters. 23rd July, 6 o'clock in the Leaky Cauldron. Be there._

_George_

_

* * *

_

Gossip? I am offended young Weasely. You actually have a product that ages people? When Franc gets a hold of it (yes, the little hellion is a boy), the place is going to look more like a retirement home than a research institute.

Because I am doing an important job here. Which is why I cannot just up and leave on command. You might not know this, being your own boss and all, but you can't request time off in the middle of a discovery to catch up with a friend.

Though, I haven't seen the gang (shut up, I will call them what I want) in a while...

Anyway, back to your accusations of gossip-mongering. What happened to that Angelina girl that was hanging off you last time I saw you?

Hey - I'm a girl; I'm allowed to be interested in your private life.

- Skippy

* * *

_No demanding to know what the favour is? You must be going soft._

_It's the 18th today. You don't have long to persuade your boss to let you have time off. It's really important, so if you don't turn up, you may end up as my new Guinea pig. I'm working on charmed parchment at the moment, so I'd be careful how you handle your letters._

_Me and Angelina broke up last year, since you were wondering. Between her Quidditch and my product development we didn't have a lot of time for each other. It's okay - I hardly noticed the difference._

_But seriously, Leaky Cauldron, Friday at 6 o'clock._

_George_

_

* * *

_

Okay, okay, it's an urgent meeting. I understand. No need for blackmail.

Luckily for you (or is that for me?) the boss let me have the weekend off. And he'll be in Germany from Monday until Friday, so I can come back late and he'll never know. Chris would cover for me, but as I said in a previous letter, he is not amused by anything with the words 'Weasely', 'Wizarding' or 'Wheezes'. Well, he might be okay with 'Wizarding', but definitely not the other two. He thinks that my friendship with you is treachery.

Was that a joke about splitting up with your girl? You didn't pull it off.

Wait, why am I sending this: by the time you see this I'll be in the damn pub anyway.

See you soon,

- Skippy

* * *

**As always on a Friday evening, the Leaky Cauldron was packed.**

That is to say, there was a group of drunk witches in a corner wolf-whistling at passing wizards regardless of age (or gender, for that matter, if the uncomfortable blushes on the waitresses faces were any indication), an even larger group of wizards and goblins taking up the large table in the centre of the room with their poker tournament and the flasher dancing by the magical jukebox, tan trench coat sliding easily over his unclothed form.

And not forgetting the red-haired man sitting near the fireplace, nursing a beer whilst checking his watch.

5:59

Sip.

Sip.

Grimace at the taste of the manky beer. How could his friend actually enjoy the beverage?

Sip.

6:00

As the hand ticked into place, the unnatural green flames swelled and a tall brunette woman stepped out of the fireplace, disorientated. Green eyes opened and crinkled in joy at the man.

"See, I told you I'd make it."

"Yeah." the man smiled back, standing up and encasing the woman in a hug.

"Hey - I grew!" she exclaimed into his fiery hair. The head shook from side to side in exasperation.

"You haven't changed a bit."

She stood back, hands on his shoulders; scrutinising him.

"You have. Not in the height department, but you seem... Happier." It's true, there was a sparkle in the man's eye that was absent three years ago. The red-head shrugged.

"Time goes on."

"Mmm," she agreed, not meeting his eyes. "Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?"

* * *

**Saturday evening in Muggle Liverpool was much more lively, the bar mostly filled with barely legal uni students trying to get drunk off a glass of beer.**

The brunette glowered over her gin and tonic. Generic dance music pounded through her head; made her glass jump in her hand. This did nothing for her bad mood.

"Stupid no good self-righteous bi-"

"Skippy!" a blonde woman chastised, sipping her lemonade nonchalantly. "Come on, it's not that bad."

"It _is_ 'that bad'. It's beyond 'that bad'. It's drowning itself in the stupid lake because it's 'that bad'." Skippy grumbled bitterly then downed the last of the alcohol, slamming the glass on the counter, the sound going unnoticed by their neighbours: a testament to the skull shatteringly loud music.

"You lost track of where that metaphor went, didn't you?" another woman sighed, one-handedly smoothing the frizz out of her dark hair.

"Maybe. A little." The brunette admitted. "But the point is, who are they to order me around? Little miss 'I'm better than you' think's I'd be better off-"

"SKIPPY!" the dark haired - and dark skinned - woman shouted. The woman in question shrunk in her seat, hunching her shoulders. "You can just say no. Tell 'em you already have a job, thank-you-very-much, and just let it go."

She began to mumble, avoiding eye contact with her best friends.

"If you just said 'let it roll right off your shoulder, don't you know', I'll slap you." mock-threatened the dark skinned lady.

"Jessa, you're a scary drunk." the blonde said, brown eyes closed in weariness.

"Hey- I'm not drunk. She is," A thumb pointed in Skippy's direction. The woman had started to sway off-beat to the music, twirling her fingers. "But I'm not."

"You're a little tipsy." she pointed out.

"You aren't."

"Well, someone has to be able to make sure we get the right bus home this time."

Jessa shrugged. "Touché, Nat. You win this one." Satisfied, Nat took a swig of her drink, before remembering what they were talking about.

"Oh, oh. Skippy?"

"Yeeeah?" she tilted her head. Sometime in Nat and Jessa's argument, she had ordered another drink and was already half empty.

"Why don't you tell them to cram their offer where the sun don't shine?" Jessa repeated her question bluntly.

"...George."

"That dude from that bar in that place when the whole Voldy-dude thing ended?"

"Hogsh- Hogsmeade, yeash."

"What about him?" Nat glared at Jessa for confusing their intoxicated friend.

"I lost a, a drinkin' game. I owe 'im."

Jessa let out a bark of laughter. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all night."

"I think I agree." Nat smirked.

* * *

**Skippy woke with boobs in her face, but her head hurt too much to care. **

Her hand reached around for her wand despite groans from her pillow. Sitting up, though tricky, made it easier to summon help.

"Accio hangover potion." In a display of skill far beyond the reach of most hungover people, she caught the flask with her face. "Owwww..."

"Pass that here when you're done." Jessa croaked, not bothering to move.

"Get your own." she scowled before downing the foul concoction. Jessa's hand flew out towards the flask but Skippy was too slow to save it.

"You know full well I can't." She shook the container, frowning. "Is a couple of mouthfuls enough?"

"Probably. Want some water?" she offered.

"Please. Blech, that tastes awful. What's wrong with putting flavourings in, woman?

"For that crack at my cooking, You're not getting any water. Accio glass." This time she caught it in her free hand. "Aguamenti."

"You are a cruel, cruel person." she sighed, flopping her hands back onto the bed. "What happened to Nat?"

"Dunno. Work, probably."

They sat in silence, for the silence soothed their migraines. When the pounding was reduced to an acceptable level, Skippy frowned.

"So-"

"Hey- No, you go first." Jessa flopped her hand, gesturing at her friend.

"Eh, we're probably talking about the same thing."

"If you mean what happened Friday night, then yes."

"Mmm." she hummed. "They want me to be the muggle studies 'professor' at Hogwarts."

Jessa grinned weakly. "I can imagine that."

"No you can't." Skippy shook her head.

"I can too." she protested. "You'd go in the first day either drunk or with a hangover and terrify the little shits."

"One - hangover potions and two - I'd be teaching third years and up."

"Third years? Like year nines?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm. Remember the year nines when we were in year eleven? If you have to teach them, I'd piss myself laughing."

Skippy grimaced. "Not while I'm on the bed, please." Jessa only laughed.

"So what's the problem?"

"I like my job. Sure, Franc makes me want to rip my hair out and I'm only an assistant researcher, but I'd miss Chris and Nabila."

"Yeah, but you'd see us more often."

"Don't tell me you're on their side too." She pulled a face. "I've never actually been to the school either, and I'd get lost and the kids would never respect me and oh God, the kids. I'm no good with kids." Skippy shook her head. "I'm not qualified for this."

"There, there." Jessa comforted her, sitting up. "So. Who's 'little miss I'm better than you'? Every other sentence last night was you ranting about her."

"Little miss- oh, her." Her face darkened. "Hermione Granger. Know-it-all bitch extraordinaire."

"Ohhh dear. Ding ding, we have a new entry on the shit list."

She shot her a scathing look. "Not just a 'new entry'. She's right at the top."

"Damn, what did she do to piss you off more than-" She caught herself before worsening the brunette's mood even further. "Ahem."

"It doesn't matter." She sighed. "I'll be in the rose garden if you need me."

Jessa bit her lip. "Think about it, kay? See you later."

"Yeah. See you." Skippy smiled sadly before apparating out of the flat, leaving Jessa to smooth her hair down nervously.

* * *

**As she entered the reception of Phoenix Enterprises headquarters, the words 'Don't let her be here, don't let me bite her,' ran through Skippy's head like a demented mantra.**

Well, it was a demented mantra, she supposed, but she was supposed to be teacher material. She snorted under her breath at the thought as she walked over to the reception desk.

"I'm Stephanie Hall," God, she hated that name. "Is it possible to see Mr Potter?"

The secretary rooted around on her desk before finding a single post-it note. "Ah, yes, go on up. His office is on the third floor, you can't miss it." She smiled, eliciting a slight twitch of the lips from the pre-occupied woman.

She walked over to the lifts. No sightings of _her_ yet. As she scanned the control panel for the button, the lift arrived with a ding and the doors scuffed open to reveal the devil. Or rather, Hermione Granger.

"Oh, hello, Stephanie." she smiled at the older woman, who didn't bother to correct her. Or smile back for that matter. Instead, she gave a slight nod in her direction to acknowledge her greeting. "Have you decided to take up the post?"

"Maybe." Skippy replied frostily.

"I'm sure you'll love it at Hogwarts."

"If you love Hogwarts so much,"_ 'Why don't you marry it?'_ "Why didn't you take it up?"

"I would have, but I'm needed elsewhere." She smiled apologetically. "Researching has always been my passion."

"I _am_ a researcher."

"Really? What discoveries have you made?"

"I would tell you, but I'd have to kill you."

She gave Skippy an odd look, then shook her head. "Well, it mustn't have been very important if I've never heard of you before. Where did you say you worked?"

The older woman's fists clenched, but she forced herself to relax.

"Shouldn't you be doing something?"

"Actually, I have a date tonight. I'm off to get ready."

"Oh. How nice for you." she said robotically, lying through her gritted teeth. Hermione's smile wavered.

"Goodbye, then. I hope we see each other soon."

"Yes. Soon. Hahaha." She replied, falling into the lift. As the doors closed, she resisted the urge to scream.

* * *

**Harry Potter was not supposed to be this nice.**

"I said, would you like a drink? I know it's early, but you look like you could use one." he offered, pouring himself a whiskey.

Skippy was on the verge of melting. He was like the little brother she never had.

"No, it's okay. Last time I got drunk with an English wizard, I ended up owing him a favour."

"Just English wizards?" he grinned.

"Yeah. Amazingly, you can trust the French when you're too liquored up to move, but you celebrate the fall of a dark wizard once - thank you for that, by the way - and you end up here, three years later with the 'saviour of wizarding Britain' wanting you to give up your job so you can teach a bunch of brats how to wipe their own arses." She paused for effect. "You're shorter than the legends imply."

Ah, there it was. The greatest spit-take in history. If only Skippy had a penseive...

"I take it-" Cough. "You're not too pleased-" Cough. "At the idea of teaching?" he said as the coughs died down.

"I'm happy with my job." she stated simply. "Why is it so important that I take it anyway?"

Harry's lips twisted into a bittersweet smile. "Phoenix Enterprises exists to draw the magical and muggle worlds together. We're using muggle science to prove and explain magic. We're marketing magical items for muggle consumers - and vice versa. But as long as the magical community knows nothing about muggles, there will be more Voldemorts." He ran his fingers over his scar sub-consciously. "The first step is to educate young witches and wizards. We have already made muggle studies a compulsory subject, but it is still available as an OWL option."

"Like full course and short course GCSE?"

"Yeah, I think that's how Hermione described it. Either way, we need a teacher for OWL and NEWT Muggle Studies. That's where you come in." he finished, looking Skippy in the eye. She nodded, but still had questions of her own.

"You do realise that I'm not qualified for this? Hell, I've never actually been to Hogwarts. I have more muggle than wizarding qualifications."

"Exactly, you know how the system works." She tried not to giggle at his words. "You also have no prejudice from the house system."

"True," she conceded. "But I'd get lost."

The man shrugged. "I happen to have a map of the school in my possession. It's an interesting thing, but I suppose you could borrow it until you get settled in."

She squinted at him, but he didn't flinch.

"Are you trying to blackmail me?"

Harry poured another glass of whiskey. "Is it working?" He tilted the bottle in her direction. "Are you sure you don't want any?"

"Oh go on then." He wordlessly passed her a glass of the amber liquid. "So, you're convinced I'm the right person for the job?"

"Especially considering how you spent my seventh year."

"That was... That's not the point." He smiled knowingly at her and her anger flared once more. "You also forget that I already have a job." She took a sip."It's a good job." Another. "I like my co-workers." The last drops. "I like the country. More please." She slid the glass over the mahogany desk. "Where was I? Oh yes, I like science." She picked up the re-filled glass. "I like it more than any of the magical subjects." Sip. "Except maybe transfiguration. It's always amusing to change things into animals when your friends are drunk."

"You're drunk." he noted.

"I'm not drunk. Maybe by the end of the glass, but not at the moment."

"So if you had access to a lab, or were able to work with the research department in the summer, you'd take the job?"

"Probably-" Her eyes widened in horror. "SHIT! I didn't mean to say that."

Harry laughed, earning a glare. He didn't care and carried on.

"You bastard." she groaned and set her glass down. "Fine, I'll take the job. But only if I have that access to a lab," He nodded; this was reasonable. "And only if I have complete control over the syllabus. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do this properly." Harry did not like the smile on Skippy's face as the cogs in her half-drunken mind started turning. "You want muggle studies? Consider the studies muggled."

* * *

**So. Continue or kill it dead? **

**Is my lack of description annoying or is it bearable? I was trying not to give everything away in the first chapter. **

**What do you think of Skippy? She's like a baby. A big, drunken baby. I like her, but do you? In case you couldn't be bothered working it out from the information given, she's 26. (4 years older than George, who is 2 years older than Harry. Plus 3 years from the end of canon equals 26.)**

**I have no idea why everything revolves around alcohol. Hell, I've never had a drop in my life. **

**And I'm proud of the length too. 3.5k without ANs. Yes, now I'm trying to bump it up to 4k . Have an extra.**

**

* * *

**Cher Christophe,

La semaine dernière, j'ai travaillé comme scientifique.

Maintenant, je suis prof des études sur les muggles à Hogwarts.

Ce n'est pas ma faute - j'étais ivre.

Baisers,

Skippy

* * *

**Okaaaay . I'm pretty sure that the French is correct, as I only used Google translate to check (and copy accents) and to see what 'drunk' was. **

**Roughly translated it means; last week I was a scientist, now I'm a teacher. It's not my fault - I was drunk. Kisses, Skippy.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ahahaha, so much for updating over the summer. I've had most of this on my memory stick for ages, but I didn't get round to finishing it until lunch today. I barely remembered what had happened, but I made do. Also, there might be a couple of typos and general punctuation fail towards the end 'cause I wrote it on my iPod touch and I edited it all with one hand 'cause I was eating mah din-dins. **

* * *

Weasely-

If you must know, you won.

I'm currently crashing at Jessa's flat, annoying her while she works and not transfiguring my bed back into the sofa so she can navigate the living room. She won't admit it, but I'm convinced that she only lets me stay for the hangover potion. Either that or my cooking.

Have I even introduced Jess to you? If I haven't then I probably should, considering her and Nat are my bestest buds. I should also track down my not-so-bestest buds while I'm home, though you won't want to meet them I most likely fell out of contact with them for a good reason.

I should also start thinking of lesson plans, but a) I'm procrastinating (it feels weird to be doing this again after 5 years) and b) I need to have an interview before I can officially take up the post. Since they're desperate, it's only a formality. Plus I may have a little wander around the school. You'll have to tell me where all the interesting stuff is. I think Potter mentioned lending me a map, but maps are for the weak. If you have a map, you have no excuse for being late and going where you aren't supposed to.

Oh, hang on - I've just received a letter from the school. What good timing. Blah blah blah, I have a meeting with Headmistress McGonagall at 2 o'clock on Wednesday. And I'll be escorted - is it just me or does that word sound vaguely wrong - to her office so I won't have to arrive Tuesday morning and find the room by trial and error. How thoughtful of them.

Is McGonagall the scary one that can talk to cats? I think she took me around Diagon Alley for school stuff... 15, 16 years ago. Damn, I feel old.

- Skippy

* * *

_Skippy,_

_I heard from Ron that it took alcohol to make you agree. I'd be careful if I were you - one of the most powerful wizards in the country knows your weakness. If it makes you feel any better, I only laughed for five minutes._

_You have told me about your friends and I feel sorry for the one you're staying with. Do you still sleep in? I can imagine you taking up the living room until the afternoon, with Jessa trapped until you move. _

_If you have been given the map I think you've been given, you'll be taking back what you said by the end of the first week. We had the Marauders' Map in until our 5th year, then gave it to Harry so he could sneak into Hogsmeade (find the statue of the hump-backed witch)._

_How did the interview go? You'll know by now that, yes, McGoogles is the scary one, especially if you asked if she could talk to cats. If you did, you would also know that she's a cat animagus. Between her and the caretaker's cat, it's surprising we managed to sneak out as much as we did and not end up with a reflex to run away from cats._

_We should meet up one evening now we're in the same country._

_George_

_

* * *

_

The interview went very well, thank you.

You have too little faith in me - I know that you aren't supposed to ask your potential employer questions at your interview. You wait until after you've been offered the job, _then_ you can start asking.

I didn't have enough time to explore (though I will remember to find that statue. Sure, I can leave whenever I want, but there's no sense of adventure in walking out the front door) because I was sent to the other muggle studies teacher, who is an incompetent madwoman that I want to set on fire using her own lesson plans. Which she expects me to use. Pffft. One of the conditions of me taking the job was that I could do whatever I want, and that is what I plan on doing.

Here's my to-do list:

1. Quit job

2. Buy briefcase

3. Buy alcohol to store in briefcase

4. Go back to old high school and terrorise head teacher for information

5. Find somebody who wasn't taught by the useless woman and ask to share memories of what was taught

6. Stockpile past OWL and NEWT exam papers

7. ?

8. PROFIT

9. Clean bathtub

So far, I have only accomplished #3. #9 is kinda moot now that Jessa's brother has come back from school and is sleeping on my sofa.

I'm staying with Nat at the moment, but her flat is shiny and new and therefore lacks a bathtub. Instead, there is the best shower ever. It even has a radio in it!

When are you free? I'll have to go back to work on Saturday to resign, but after that all I have to do is prepare for September.

- Skippy

* * *

_I should be worried for your sanity, but by now it's too late so instead I'll ask you: what do you think of Hogwarts? And what did the muggle studies professor do to deserve being burned alive? She can't be as bad as my 7th year defense professor, the great toad. _

_Also, I'll add your students to the list of people I feel sorry for. You're going about this logically, so whatever you're planning will be brilliant and effective, no doubt. _

_Talking of the list, I can help with #5. Although, I will have to ask dad if he remembers what he did for NEWT muggle studies, since I only took it until 5th year. Saturday evening, maybe? I still have some paperwork to do but it should be finished by tomorrow. _

_George_

_

* * *

_

Yeah, Saturday's fine. As soon as I've finished this letter, I'm off! Yeah, that means it'll be a quickie. Which is good, since I've only got the little scrap at the bottom of your letter to write on. You never write much either - that better mean that you have lots of awesome stories to tell me over a drink or five.

My reply, in order: it's okay, she just bugs me, thank you (that bit is sarcasm, by the way) and yay! I'll elaborate tomorrow, Nat's complaining about the lack of living room space and I need to undo the transfiguration before she revokes my mini-fridge rights. I need that shit for potion storage, man.

Actually, no, I'll just say this about Hogwarts before I forget: when people say that it's a castle, you're like 'yeah, a castle, right.' and then you see it, and OMFG IT'S A CASTLE! I mean, you were expecting a castle, but the word does it no justice. It should be renamed a 'castle-inator' because if that thing could walk, that's world domination right there.

Anyway, see ya later :)

- Skippy

* * *

**"And then I said, 'Fuck you and the broom you rode in on, I'm doing my own lesson plans,' then **_**she**_**-"**

"Come on, you didn't say that!" George exclaimed, eyes watering as he waved his wand, the puddle from his spit-take vanished in an instant.

The pair sat either side of a breakfast bar, a nearly empty bottle of firewhiskey between them and the clock on the wall reading 12:32 AM (Go on, go to sleep). Skippy had arrived in the man's kitchen roughly five hours previously with a bottle of tequila (thankfully unopened as of yet), green eyes shining with untold stories. Since then, they had taken it in turns to update the other on what they had been up to in between singing along to the wireless. Neither of them knew the words to any of the songs, but they had fun regardless.

"Nah." she smiled, lifting her glass and tilting it in his direction. "I did tell her I had no intention of using her plans though. There were no field trips or guest speakers or even showing them household appliances. It was literally just describing stuff and hoping the students drew the right mental picture, if not they fail." George frowned and shook his head.

"That sounds a lot like what we did in school." He paused. "Well, we did get to play with the artifacts, but only because we snuck them out of the garage."

"Garage?"

"Where else would dad hide his toys?" George's grin faded as he remembered. "When we were fourteen..." The change in his tone made Skippy's back straighten up and look at her friend with concern. "Dad had a flying car-"

"Awesome." she interrupted, utterly distracted. "Just, yes."

"Yeah." His smile strengthened as he continued. "Anyway, Ron - my youngest brother - saw us driving it and told us that he'd tell mum unless we went to Surrey to rescue Harry."

"Aww, he must have been absolutely diddy back then." She cooed, off subject. "Wait, rescued?"

"Bars on his window and everything. They were fun to pull off." he added as an afterthought.

"That's still not answering the question."

Ignoring her, he continued, "Then we stole his school stuff." Skippy snorted and drained the glass.

"Fun. Hey, you ever tried whisquila?"

Geoge raised an eyebrow. "That sounds illegal, or morally wrong at the very least."

"Well, probably. You put whiskey and tequila into a shot glass and hope you don't die of liver failure and-slash-or exploded heads. It's fun - you should try it."

He shook his head in exasperation as she reached for the bottle, missing it entirely. She pouted and rested her arms on each other in a drunken attempt at crossing her arms petulantly.

"It's getting late," he said as he noticed the clock flashing the words 'Do you plan on sleeping or what?' at the oblivious kitchen and it's inhabitants. "Are you crashing here or going back to your friend's?"

"Mmm, I'll borrow your sofa. Make it three people in a week." she hummed, slumping over the granite surface. "I like this song, who's it by?"

He strained his remaining ear to make sense of the unfamiliar bars of music before giving up. "No idea." He shrugged, swinging his stool around so he could hop onto his unsteady feet. Skippy followed, sliding sidways off the seat while leaning on the breakfast bar rather than standing with her full weight. She staggered across to George to sling one of her arms around his neck, using the other to stay upright as he swayed under their combined weight.

They shuffled forwards as one, until they reached the living room sofa, where Skippy fell face-first onto the cool leather. "G'nd nigh'." she called, the words muffled by the furniture. George, at the doorway, turned and smiled.

"Goodnight."

* * *

**Skippy set down the biro with a flourish and straightened the significantly large pile of papers sat on the desk in front of her.**

Class lists, lesson plans, specifications, copies of permission slips and reading lists, angry letters from parents regarding permission slips and reading lists - everything she would need for the year ahead was in her hands, neatly ordered and most importantly, completed. The door swung open with a loud thump behind her.

"Miss Hall!" a voice squeaked from the doorway of her office. "The staff meeting - it began 10 minutes ago!"

"Oh, I knew forgot something." she laughed airily. "I'll be along in a minute."

The much older - and shorter - professor shook his head impatiently. "We're not going to be fooled by that one again. Come along." Skippy sighed, but stood up, still clutching her paperwork.

"You're all no fun." she tutted, following the charms professor down the hallway. The staff-room was right at the end of the corridor. Skippy raised both eyebrows as Flitwick motioned for her to enter. "I needed to be escorted _here_? Really?"

"After what we are calling 'The Great Kitchen Incident', we are taking no chances." the headmistress answered frostily. "What's your excuse for being late this time?"

She deliberated before deciding to tell the truth. "Paperwork." She held up her 'baby', shaking it. "I swear, it breeds." A few teachers murmured in assent. McGonagall cleared her throat and Skippy took her seat quickly. 'Off the hook~' she smirked.

"Now, the students arrive tomorrow," the witch announced as Skippy tuned out.

It had been a week since they made her return to Hogwarts to prepare the classroom, draw up seating plans and the like (none of which she did, of course). Before then, she spent her days at Jessa's flat, at George's shop or on days she felt lucky, under Nat's desk in her office, occasionally drawing up lesson plans but more often than not distracting them. She never got round to moving off of George's sofa, as he could easily manouver around (or shrink) the bed, leading to less yelling and more sleeping.

Regarding her work, it took a while to persuade various higher-ups to agree to her ideas, but she won in the end with mostly-flawless logic and puppy-dog eyes. She felt a sliver of remorse for what she had planned for the kids, but it would be worth it in the end.

All in all, she was glad to be back in England with her friends, and wasn't actively resenting her new job (yet, she mentally added. She didn't hate her job yet.) So when an owl arrived with the order to 'get her arse to school', something Jessa joked that she hadn't heard since she was a teenager, Skippy was not a happy bunny. Not even a mildly satisfied bunny.

The Great Kitchen Incident, as it was dubbed by the rest of her colleagues, referred to the first few days of her stay at Hogwarts in which she 'got lost' and ended up living in the kitchens until the house-elves complained that she had drunk all of the wine. After that, the staff were divided on whether they thought Skippy was disgraceful or interesting. Of course, the latter, including Horage Slughorn, Rubeus Hagrid and surprisingly, Pomona Sprout, were outnumbered by the former.

To be honest, she didn't care what they thought, as if they weren't disapproving of her drinking, they'd be against her age or the fact that she was home-schooled instead of going to Hogwarts. It was less bother to use the map - she _had_ to thank Harry for that - to avoid those she didn't want to talk to.

"Miss Hall... Miss Hall... Stephanie!"

"Huh, yeah, what?" she asked, broken out of her reverie.

"Pass along the staff meeting timetables." McGonagall inclined to the much lighter pile of papers sat next to her own.

"Oh, okay." she replied cheerfully, going back to a state of half listening, half off in a world of her own as she hopped the timetables to the other side of her paperwork, tempted to not place one on top of it.

* * *

**Was the sorting ceremony supposed to be so boring?**

To Skippy, all it seemed like was the short man calling the name of a terrified child, drowning its face in hat until the supposedly inanimate object shouts a nonsense word that will define them for the next seven years; repeat. Ad nauseum.

"Williams, Paige." Flitwick squeaked, prompting a tiny blonde to scurry to the smirking hat.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" it cried moments later. Still full of energy, the girl zoomed to the table that had broken out in weary applause. Finally; it was over.

Talking of hats, why couldn't wizards have hang-ups with top hats rather than the traditional pointed hats? she wondered, resisting the urge to re-adjust her headgear. True, not many can pull the top hat look off either, but it would be a damn sight more entertaining to watch a hundred top-hatted heads bobbing up and down as they tried not to fall asleep from the sheer boredom of the sorting ceremony.

Okay, maybe it wasn't _that_ dull, but she could tell that many of the students woud agree that the affair took too long.

McGonagall stood up, agonisingly slowly.

"Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts," she began, the students half paying attention, half anticipating the feast ahead of them. Skippy tried to pay attention, but she was no stranger to start-of-year speeches, even though this was her first experience of one in the magical world; and there must be _some_ differences. However, formality is boring no matter the circumstances and it's not like they hadn't heard it all before, whether from experience, family and friends or just plain common sense.

"As many of you will know, muggle studies has become a mandatory subject-" There was a muffled uproar, an instinctive reaction when free time is threatened. "Joining the faculty is professor Stephanie Hall," Skippy gave an absent-minded salute. "Who will be teaching the OWL and NEWT elective groups." Many of the older students shared looks of horror while a handful interspersed between them looked smug. Either the useless bat was hated by students as well as colleagues - well, colleague - or she was just. That. Awesome. Of course, she preferred the latter, but the former was the more likely reason.

Though, she wondered, would they change their minds when she revealed her plans?

The older witch finished her speech some time later. Though she was paying no attention at all, whatsoever, Skippy could tell by the split second gap of silence between a clang of dishes and a roar of chatter. The number of students was about the same as in her 6th form and she was hit by a wave of nostalgia for her group of friends sitting on the floor in a corner of the common room, yelling at each other to be heard over the crowds of rowdy teenagers. For claiming a space on the sofas as soon as somebody would stand. For teasing her friends for every stolen glance across the room at their crushes. For hiding every stolen glance across the room at_ her _crush.

"Is everything alright, Stephanie?" Sprout asked, breaking her reverie. She shook the far-away smile and dazed look from her face.

"Yeah, just thinking" she reassured her, picking up her goblet filled with a deep red wine that she didn't remember pouring. Oh yeah - magic. She shrugged internally and took a sip. It was rather tasty. "This is rather tasty." Skippy announced, swilling the cup as classily as she could manage. Sprout's pleasant smile faltered slightly.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**I kinda found reading over this again slightly painful, but hopefully it was good for a couple of laughs. THE FILLER IT BURNS?**

**Expect the next chapter... Any time. Well, as soon as I remember where I'm going with it (thank God I made some notes) and get time to actually type it. To be fair, I am doing the International Baccalaureate, so even my free time is not my free time. And when my free time _is_ my free time, I'm usually too tired to do anything.**

**So, thoughts? **


End file.
